


On The Way Home

by marvel_onomus



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Endgame compliant, F/M, I don’t know how to tag shit, Peter Parker Whump, Rated teen for swearing, Title and chapter titles are all from taylor swift songs, far from home compliant, kind of, oof idk I’m tired, peter parker kinda dies a bunch, peter parker says fuck, posted first to my tumblr @marvel-ous-shitposts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:35:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22874116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marvel_onomus/pseuds/marvel_onomus
Summary: Somehow, Peter knew he would wake up in a forest. He didn’t know how he knew, and he didn’t really care, but he felt satisfyingly vindicated when he opened his eyes to some funky, ethereal trees.Or, 5 times Peter almost dies but instead gets a little better at coping with his grief
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 32
Kudos: 53





	1. All The Trees Change in The Fall

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys so this fic kinda reignited my passion for writing irondad so thats fun. I figured it would probably be good to post it on here bc it’s long and kinda buried on my tumblr. I had a lot of fun writing it and I hope y’all have just as much fun reading it!!

_ “Maybe if you had been better, Tony wouldn’t have died.”  _

_ “Oh Peter. You’re so gullible.”  _

There is the worst kind of terror in anticipation, in not knowing what awful thing is going to happen next, Peter realized as he stumbled through the end of the illusion, as it faded from around him. 

And then before he could regain his bearings, before he could blink, the full force of a bullet train slammed into his side. 

For a minute, his vision went black from the pain, his body threatening to give out then and there. But he couldn’t let it. He had work to do, he had to fix his mistakes. 

Through force of sheer will, Peter climbed up the side of the train, breaking a window to let his body tumble gracelessly through. 

He pulled himself into a chair, holding his injured ribs. With the last of his adrenaline fading, he coughed a breath out.

And everything turned to black.

“Peter?” 

Peter coughed, groaning at the pain it caused. 

“Kid,” the voice said again. Peter knew that voice. He’d been trying not to think about that voice, at the same time terrified that he’d forget. He blinked open his eyes to meet unforgettable brown ones staring back down at him.

“Mr. Stark?” 

“Kid, you have to wake up.” Mr. Stark was sitting next to Peter in a sort of forest, a diffused glow clinging around him. 

“Mr. Stark, I’m so sorry, I fucked up, and now Quentin has Edith and he’s going to hurt Ned and Mj and I-“ Peter choked in a breath, trying and failing to blink back tears, “I miss you.” 

Mr. Stark gently wiped a tear from Peters cheek. “I know Pete. But you can’t stay here, you know that. You have to wake up.”

“I don’t want to go back.” Peter said softly, fear and pain coloring his words.

Mr. Stark gave him a sad smile. “I know kid, I know.” He rested his hand on Peters shoulder and they sat for a minute in bittersweet silence. “But you have to.” 

Peter nodded, a new wave of tears sliding down his face. “Goodbye, Mr. Stark.”

Peter awoke with a gasp in a jail cell, a bright orange shirt on top of his stealth costume, his vivid dream dissipating like snow on hot pavement.

Somewhere in the afterlife, Tony looked down fondly at the place where Peter had been.


	2. For Staying Back and Watching Me Shine

It was a lovely summer evening in New York, and Peter Parker was facing down his greatest enemy. 

Trains.

To be fair, it wasn’t really the train’s fault, but that was hard to keep in mind as Peter struggled to save its passengers from a watery grave. His entire body screamed at him as he strained to hold the webs on both sides of him, like some kind of reverse spidey slingshot. 

It felt way too familiar, and for a second he almost let himself think about why.

He pushed away the thoughts, about the first train, about the way he was positioned just like on the ferry, and the train finally, finally came to a halt. 

For a second he stood still, the front of the train dangling him over the East river, before the knowledge that he did it, he saved them, washed over him with a surprising warmth. 

Then he toppled forward into the welcoming arms of unconsciousness.

When Peter Parker opened his eyes, he wasn’t in the water or on the train.

He was in the forest- a weirdly beautiful forest that looked more like a painting than real life- and an eerie sense of deja vu clawed him in the gut. 

He’d barely even had time to process his surroundings before a voice ( _the_ voice, the one that Peter hadn’t heard in so long, save for dreams that made him cry in his sleep) broke the heavy silence. 

“Jeez kid, what’s with you and trains?” 

It was a gentle joke, and Peter could easily imagine his sarcastic reply- _they’re out to get me, Mr. Stark_ \- but it was all he could do to sit up, turning to meet that familiar fond expression. 

Tony Stark was sitting beside him.

“Mr. Stark,” he managed, his voice threatening to break, “what’s... how?”

“You don’t remember being here?” Tony’s eyes were gentle, but it was interest, not concern, that colored his tone. 

Peter shook his head in reply, brow furrowing in confusion. 

“Huh. I guess you forget when you wake up.” 

Peter’s confusion deepened. “So am I... not dead?” 

Mr. Stark smiled, his expression soft. “No kid, you took one hell of a beating, but you’re not dead.” 

Oh. The statement didn’t make Peter feel better, just somehow more tired. Without thinking, he leaned slowly, until he was resting his weight against Tony’s shoulder. 

Mr. Stark’s arm wrapped gently around Peter’s side, and for a second Peter had to stifle a sob. 

Tony must’ve heard him sniffle, because he hugged Peter just a little tighter. 

“I’m so proud of you, Pete.” 

Peter let his eyes slide shut, his head resting on Mr. Stark’s shoulder. 

As he felt the dream slipping away, Peter could have sworn he heard Tony Stark call out: “I love you kid.” 


	3. You Were On My Side, Even When I Was Wrong

Peter Parker was having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. 

Scratch that, it was much, much longer than a day. (One might even wager that it was a no good, very bad life, but Peter tried not to think about that. It was too depressing.) 

The most recent reasons why his life was shit were less depressing and more irritating. It was the first week of senior year, and somehow he already had three failed assignments in two different classes, that new AP biology teacher- Dr. Connors- had it out for him, he’d lost another backpack while stopping some girl from jumping off the Queensboro Bridge, and Happy and Aunt May were somehow still dating. 

He explained all this to a very patient Mj, as she pulled him through Flushing Meadows by his hand, nodding and “mmhmm”-ing sympathetically. They were in the park to take pictures for Mj’s art class, and she had claimed that Peter “was just better at photography than her,” although he suspected that she was just lying to give him an excuse to come along. She probably hadn’t expected that Peter would be in this bad of a mood, but his animated ranting didn’t seem to bother her.

He was in the middle of detailing that he was just tired of being nice, he _did_ want to go ape shitt, when he froze. 

He barely had time to process the loud, screaming warning bells of danger that blared in his mind before he shoved Mj out of the way, her shriek compounding with the sudden sharp pain in the back of his neck. 

Not even bothering to check what hit him, he spun around, emboldened by adrenaline, to find himself face to face with an absolute whack job. 

The man, who was wearing nothing but a weird assortment of animal furs and a loin cloth, was pointing a rifle at Peter and laughing maniacally. 

“Hello spider,” he spit, a gleeful ring to his tone. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” was Peter’s intelligent reply, his heart beat quickening. 

Loincloth-man’s smile widened. “Don’t deny it, spider. I am a hunter. I know how to follow _tracks_.” He hissed the last word, waving a piece of paper in his free hand. It took Peter a second to realize what the paper was-

“Hey! I got a zero on that assignment because of you.” His words were slurring around the edges, and he stumbled forward. 

Peter couldn’t hear loincloth-man’s response, some gloaty nonsense about a tranquilizer dart in Peter’s neck, because he was too focused on the sound of running footsteps from somewhere behind him. His vision was tunneling, mostly focused on the rifle pointed straight at his face, but he thought he saw something moving out of the corner of his eye. 

“You were surprisingly easy to hunt, spider,” loincloth-man said, and then Peter could’ve sworn he heard MJ’s voice yelling, and a commotion exploded in front of him as he watched something tackle the man in the loincloth, and there was a very loud noise and a very bright light and then Peter’s shoulder stung. 

He swayed for a second, his mind slowly connecting the dots before adding: “I’ve just been shot” to his list of no good, very bad, and then more importantly, “I didn’t even get to finish my conversation with MJ.”

He could hear her calling his name, and he managed to mumble out an “I’m gonna go feral,” in response. 

Then he tipped gracelessly into the abyss.

Somehow, Peter knew he would wake up in a forest. He did know how he knew, and he didn’t really care, but he felt satisfyingly vindicated when he opened his eyes to some funky, ethereal trees.

He was not prepared for what, or rather, who, else he would see, but to be honest he wasn’t entirely surprised either.

“Oh great. Fabulous. I’m dead.” 

“Woah kid, who pissed in your cornflakes?” 

As nonchalant as Peter pretended to be, Tony’s voice still struck some deep chord of grief in Peter’s chest. Ignoring the pain, he pressed on. “Well I guess if I’m dead I can’t fail AP Bio. But still, I got killed by a man wearing a loincloth?! I’m gonna go absolutely batshit. And anyway-“

“Peter, slow down,” Mr. Stark cut off Peter’s irate tirade. “You’re not dead.” 

Peter froze, swinging his angry stare until he looked Tony dead in the eyes. “Are you. Fucking. Kidding me?” 

Peter was almost too caught up in his own anger to notice the confusion and concern that flashed across Mr. Stark’s face. “Kid-“

“You mean to tell me,” Peter cut him off, “that I got shot by some guy not even wearing goddamn pants, and instead of dying like a normal person I la-dee-daed off to have some fucking fever dream hallucination?” 

Tony looked stricken for a moment before replying, his voice low. “Pete this isn’t a hallucination, I am really here.” 

Peter rolled his eyes. 

“Kid I promise you, it’s hard to explain, but it’s me.”

Peter didn’t respond to that, keeping his glare fixed on some point beyond Mr. Stark’s head. 

“Peter, what is going on with you? I’ve never seen you this angry in all the time I’ve known you.” 

“Well you didn’t know me very long.” The words just slipped out of his mouth, and with them traitorous angry-tears that Peter had been trying to keep a lid on. 

Realization dawned on Tony’s face. “Kid-“ 

Peter was really crying now. He shrugged, looking away. “Everything just sucks right now, Mr. Stark.” 

He kept his eyes trained on a single tree as Mr. Stark pulled him into a tight hug. “I’m sorry, kid.” 

Peter sighed “I know. It’ll be okay.” 

_I’ll be okay_

And when Peter woke up in the medbay with tears on his face that he couldn’t explain and the remnants of a dream he couldn’t quite remember, he looked over at MJ curled up on the chair next to him and smiled.

Ok, so maybe not everything sucked.


	4. Don’t Know How Long It’s Gonna Take To Feel Okay

Under any other circumstances, Peter would have found this situation absurdly hilarious. But as it was now, he was just so tired. There was something about college that made trading blows with a giant lizard -a lizard that he was 84% sure was his old high school teacher- lackluster. 

Peter was vaguely aware that the aching fatigue he felt ran deeper than the stress of college, but he preferred not to think about it. 

He was supposed to be studying right now. Gwen, his lab partner, had made him swear up and down that he would show up to their study group today, and he was honestly afraid that she was going to kill him if the lizard abomination didn’t do it first. 

Not that he’d rather be studying. He’d rather be in bed, or just lying face down on the floor- like he had been before Ned had texted him, freaking out about a dinosaur terrorizing New York City. He didn’t know why he bothered to put on the suit and check it out, he barely even wanted to move.

His roommate was getting worried about him, Peter thought as he dodged the lizard’s swiping claws. Most everyone was, actually, but they thought they knew why.

“It’s a rough week for everyone,” his RA, Anna Maria, had said, sympathetic concern coloring her tone. And he was sure it was, but it wasn’t a rough week for Peter. Rough was frantic, struggling to keep your head above cresting waves. 

Peter had already been drowned and dragged out to sea by the rip currents. 

_We won, Mr. Stark._

The memory caught him off guard, along with the lengthy talons that suddenly wrapped around his neck. He wasn’t completely sure how the lizard managed to grab him- if he’d somehow missed the sixth sense warning or if he had let it happen. He was just so tired. 

It didn’t really matter anyway, Peter thought, as the lizard hissed something that he didn’t fully catch. He was faintly aware of the fact that he couldn’t breathe, and it took him a second to feel the sharp pain in his chest as the reptilian creature pressed its claws through Peters rib cage. 

Peter reached his webshooter out blindly, yanking hard when he felt a web connect with something solid. Whatever it was hit the lizard from the side and burst open, and Peter watched in fascination as the chemicals froze the arm that was squeezing Peter’s neck, then the rest of the lizard’s body. 

Peter writhed out of its frozen grasp, falling to the floor, the cold and pain trapping him there. He shivered, remembering something they’d learned in biology- lizards can’t thermoregulate. 

Neither can spiders. 

He smiled joylessly at the ceiling. He wasn’t sure he cared. 

He was just so tired. 

Peter was silent when he opened his eyes to the forest. 

He stayed silent when that all too familiar voice called out to him. 

“Kid?” 

Peter knew he should feel sad, or scared, or something. He was either dead or dreaming, but he still felt so tired.

“Pete please say something.”

He turned his head towards the voice, not even bothering to sit up, and met Tony Stark’s fearful expression. 

He felt a pang in his stomach, the familiarity gnawing at him. 

“Peter.” 

He could feel the anxiety rising in Mr. Stark’s tone. Blankly, he searched his mind for a correct response before settling for a monotone: “hi, Mr. Stark.” 

That was clearly the wrong option, because the concern that was settled in Tony’s expression deepened. 

“Kid. Are you okay?” 

The irony of the question made Peter snort, which in turn filled his gut with pain. Tears pricked in his eyes, and he bit them back, blinking hard. 

“I’m so tired, Mr. Stark.” The confession was barely a whisper, the words scraping out of his chest. 

Tony sighed, and Peter could hear the lament inherent in it. “Have you talked to anyone about this?” 

“What am I supposed to say?” He squeezed his eyes shut, errant tears rolling down the sides of his face. “Who would I even talk to?” 

Peter felt a hand rest softly on his head, the comforting gesture making him cry harder. 

“Everyone close to me dies, Mr. Stark. I should just get used to it.” 

“ _Peter_ .” Mr. Stark’s voice was soft, but insistent. “You know that it’s okay to grieve, right?” 

Peter didn’t respond, his breath hitching painfully. 

“Kid. Come on, look at me.” 

He opened his eyes slowly, squinting through the tears. 

“It doesn’t matter if everyone else is having a bad week, if you think you have to handle this on your own, or even if Barney the dinosaur is rampaging through central NYC.  _You_ need to take care of  _you_ .” He tapped Peter’s forehead to emphasize his words. “Now promise me, when you wake up- and you’re going to wake up, you’re not dead yet- you’ll talk to someone. May, Happy, Pepper, or even your scary girlfriend. Just, someone, Pete, you got it?” 

And for a moment, as Peter reflected on the familiar scene of Tony Stark telling him to take better care of himself, he didn’t feel quite as tired. He nodded. 

Tony smiled in response, an almost forlorn smile. “Good, kid. Are you ready to wake up now? Your loyal fanbase is worried.” 

“Five more minutes?” 

That earned him a genuine laugh, and Peter grinned back. 

“Sure, kid. Five more minutes.” 


	5. Look Now, The Sky Is Gold

Peter Parker was pretty sure that this was the most terrifying night in all his 26 years of life. 

He had the whole thing planned out. He’d made reservations at MJ’s favorite restaurant, and then they were going to go to the Met. And then, after maybe an hour of discussing art and ethics and history, he was going to propose. 

Even just thinking about it made his heart beat faster. 

As they walked down the bustling street, Peter couldn’t help but think MJ knew what he was up to. He smiled nervously at her as she shot him yet another sidelong glance. 

It wasn’t like they hadn’t talked about marriage before, but it was all hypothetical. He knew they both wanted to get married, so the proposal wouldn’t be a total surprise, but he still couldn’t help but be anxious. He wanted it to be perfect. 

But as always, Parker luck had a way of screwing things up. 

He heard it before they’d even managed to cross the street- the telltale cackle of Green Goblin.

_Aka Norman Osborn. Aka his college roommate’s batshit dad._

It was coming from a live news report near Times Square, and for a second he honestly considered just ignoring it, but then MJ gave him that pointed look and he knew he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he let Norman hurt someone.

Peter sighed. They hadn’t even made it into the restaurant. 

He grabbed MJ’s hand, searching around for a couple seconds before finding a suitable alley to duck into. They traded almost rehearsedly; MJ handing Peter the suit from her bag, and Peter handing over his button down and sports coat. 

For a second he was worried that she’d see the ring box in his pocket, but she just folded the jacket neatly and packed it away with the rest of his clothes. 

He couldn’t remember when this had become routine for them, Peter thought, as MJ gave him a quick peck on the cheek for good luck and he promised her that he’d meet her at the restaurant in a couple of minutes. 

Then he ran off towards danger. 

As he swung on scene, Peter realized that he most definitely would not be meeting MJ in a couple of minutes. 

Norman Osborn was not alone, instead flanked by the Lizard, Scorpion, and Kraven. 

He dispatched Lizard and Scorpion fairly easily, using his newly developed LN2 web bombs to freeze Connors, and tricking Gargan into falling in some drying cement, the hefty tail of his costume trapping him there. 

As Peter delivered a mediocre quip about Scorpion now really being a hardened criminal, his senses flared painfully. 

He whipped around to see Kraven pointing a gun- only it wasn’t aimed at him. 

He fired, and Peter knew what Kraven was doing, knew that it was a ploy because Kraven could never hit him directly, but still, he couldn’t just let a civilian get hurt. 

Time seemed to slow down as Peter dove, twisting to shoot web grenades at Kraven’s ugly smirk. 

The bullet caught him in the side, and he dropped to the ground with a thud. Barely even registering the burning pain, Peter pushed himself back up until he was standing. 

Three down, one to go. 

Peter managed to limp a few steps towards Osborn, who was still cackling maniacally, before his sixth sense flared and he just barely managed to leap out of the way of a pumpkin bomb. 

Gritting his teeth, he shot a web out, catching on the bottom of Goblin’s glider. But before Peter could yank it out from under him, Norman swept forward, the sharp point of the glider grazing Peter on the shoulder. He teetered, but refused to fall, and quickly regained his footing, taking advantage of his angle to knock Norman off the glider. 

Peter was halfway through his quip:  _it’s over Anakin, I have the high ground_ , when Osborn threw a punch that connected squarely with the gunshot wound. He doubled over in pain as the Goblin scrambled to his feet. 

The thought that he no longer had the high ground flitted across Peter’s mind, and for a second he almost laughed before Norman kicked him in the gut and bright lights danced around his vision. 

Peter’s brain was screaming at him about danger, compounding with Osborn’s annoying laugh and melodramatic monologue about his destiny in killing Spider-Man. He crumpled, curling into himself to brace for the final blow-

It never came. Instead there was the revving of an engine and the horrifying crunch of a vehicle hitting something, and it took Peter a couple minutes to process the Goblin lying on the street and the police barriers strewn around him and the truck stopped not too far from him. 

The door of the truck opened and someone stepped out, running and calling out to Spider-Man. 

_ MJ _

Peter blinked and then she was next to him, one hand cradling his head against her and the other firmly pressed against his side. 

“Peter. Peter, hey, look at me.” Her voice was low and urgent, and Peter did as she told him. She looked scared. 

With a start Peter remembered that he needed to ask her something. This was most definitely not how he planned it, but if he died before he got the chance he would go absolutely feral. 

“MJ,” he started, biting back a groan of pain. She tried to shush him, worry deepening in her eyes, but he had to ask her. Steeling himself, he just managed to breathe the words out: “Willyoumarryme?” 

And with that, the whole world went dark.

Peter felt like he should’ve remembered the trees. He wasn’t sure why, but the forest looked so familiar that not remembering them felt wrong. 

He was so caught up in his own musings about the scenery that the voice made him jump. 

“Well damn, kid, that was dramatic. Though I guess I’m not one to talk.” 

Peter should’ve remembered that voice too, but he hadn’t thought about it in ages. Sure, there was the intermittent bittersweet memory, but the grief had mostly faded over the years to a soft echo. 

As it was, he turned to find himself facing Tony Stark. 

_ Shit .  _

It took Peter a second to realize he’d said that out loud.

Tony smiled. “No, kid, you’re not dead. But it is nice to see you with some sense of self preservation.” 

Peter let himself process that for a second before grinning back. “You know, no one really calls me kid anymore, Tony.” 

Tony’s brow furrowed at the name, mock concerned. “Who are you and what have you done with Peter Parker?” 

Peter just laughed, a soft warmth settling in his bones. “It’s nice to see you too, Mr. Stark.” 

“As long as you don’t go making a habit of this. Your scary girlfriend is very worried about you. Or should I say scary fiancée?” 

Oh. Crap. He’d nearly forgotten. “Please tell me that’s not how I asked her to marry me.” 

That was met with a loud guffaw, followed by a: “sorry, kid. Don’t worry though, she’s head over heels for you. And, if she breaks your heart, I can always go haunt her.” 

Tony’s tone was joking, but there was a modicum of true protectiveness in his words. 

Peter put the back of his hand on his forehead. “Mr. Stark,” he whined, faking disapproving embarrassment. 

“Yeah you’re definitely still my kid.” 

It took Peter a couple seconds to realize Tony said  _my kid_ instead of _a kid_ , and at that point it was too late to point it out. 

Instead, Peter just smiled. “I guess I’ll see you sometime, Mr. Stark.” 

“Not anytime soon, Mr. Parker.” 

Peter woke up to the medbay and MJ’s worried stare. 

The hand that held his was wearing a ring, a custom made ring that was based on a broken black dahlia. 

He opened his mouth to speak, but MJ beat him to it. 

“Peter Benjamin Parker. Of course I’ll marry you. Just don’t scare me like that ever again.” 

Her tone was so exasperated Peter couldn’t help the wide grin that split across his face. Looking down at her hand on his, Peter realized that he had to ask her yet another big question. 

“MJ.....” he paused, piecing the words together in his mind as MJ’s expression turned serious, watching him expectantly. “Did you steal a truck?” 


End file.
